We wander, we wander,
By moonlight, I ponder,
Whilst sailing my ship towards that shimmering star!
How we who are pirates, so willingly wander, both hither and yonder, no matter how far…

Methinks to myself, “Not a bad life to lead, no longer a slave to the land like before…
The wind at my back, so utterly freed, to seek out adventures, on any fair shore!”

“Why do it?” Methinks, as I stand on the prou, the breeze on my face, lightly tossing my locks,
For any a man would be called crazy now, for braving the sharks, and starvation, and pox!

Is it the gold, that calls me to sea? Where hurricanes howl, and sturdy  sails rend!
Or is it the freedom that calls out to me, and gold is not more than a means to an end?

For me, ti’s the freedom, to do what I love, to sail by the light of the stars up above, And stand on my deck, under moonlight, to ponder, how we are those pirates who willingly wander…


My ship, a fine lady, a handsome thing too, a good set of guns with a competent crew, her holds full of treasures, and finest apperal, and row upon row of *** by the barrel!

So drink in the morning, and drink in the evening, and I would be lying if I didn’t say, We guzzle the *** from dusk until dawn, and me-thinks I’ll be sipping it all through the day!

Then we dance on the deck, for the music is playin, the chilly night breeze has our ship gently swayin,

And off once again, for we willingly wander, “But why?”  Says I, as by moonlight I ponder…

Wouldn’t we like to at some place belong? Would dropping our anchor for ever be wrong?

Perhaps there’s a place with a temperate climate, and someone to care for a salty old pirate?

But till that day comes, I shal willingly wander, and whilst I’m the captain, by moonlight I’ll ponder…

by— Josiah Israel

Twas oft the way in days of old,
When knight would battle brave and bold,
The damsels hand in hopes to hold,
Worth more then polished Stone, or Gold
For this is what a boy is told
When day is done and night is cold…

“One day my son, thy chance will come
Though courage oft may waver,
When lady waits, through sable gates
For thee brave lad, to save her!”

For when a dragon stole a maid,
Awaiting ransom duly paid,
Twas bravest knight, armor arrayed  
With noble steed and burnished blade
Rode swiftly to the damsels aid…

“You have not birth of high degree
Yet be thou brave and fight,
For low in rank thy birth may be
Yet heart makes noble knight!”

And after facing beast and foe
The knight with maiden free would go
Away to fields in need of ***
For seeds ere winter need to grow
And none can reap who do not sow…

“Not all you do will win a prize
Of gold or silver bent,
So reap a harvest good in size
And be thee well content.”

And when the battle horn he hears
The knight must banish all his fears
And ride to war, with battle cheers
On maidens cheek alight her tears
Fearing death, she spends the years…

“To win renown in battle
Might also be your path,
May your enemies armor rattle
As they feel your righteous wrath!”

But after kings campaign is done
The knight to home will swiftly run
From dusk through night to rising sun
Till maiden sees her hero come
Heart moving swift, a beating drum
Her heart a prize which first he won!

“Home is best at warring's end
To be with those you cherish,
A place to rest, your wounds to mend
Where love will never perish”

Though all the kingdom knows his name
And minstrels spread the brave knights fame
His love for she, remains the same
And they live happily, Knight and Dame…

Deep in a magic forest, with big old magic trees
And all the magic creatures that live inside of these

There is a magic island, upon a magic lake
And on the island stands a stool, the like no man could make

And on the stool from dawn to dusk, resides a little man
Who spends his days in deeper thought, than any mortal can…

How does he think so many thoughts, well you must realize,
That though the man is small, his head is twice the normal size.

And as for food, well first of all he quite likes eating bugs
Beetles spiders, grass hoppers, slimy snails and salty slugs!

Inside his beard he keeps a hive, so honey he can eat,
And sips the dew from roses, which he grows atop his feet…

And when the night time brings the cold, the old man doesn't care
He simply covers up, with all his long and tangled hair!

Regardless of his oddities, the man is still renowned,
For being quite the wisest man, who never can be found.

Be still oh heart within this aching *****, For sight of she hath caused this thrilling tremor!

When through gossamer haze I first beheld her,
Arrayed in winters coldest blues and whites,

Her locks burning bright as silver flame,
Awash in purest of all heavenly lights!


An undulating melody drips from sweetest lips,
Tis born to me upon a gentle breeze,

I hearken to her song with all my will,
Struck with deep desire, my soul doth seize!


Were I to rush upon this Fairy apparition,
Away would vanish I deeply fear,

And if she were to leave this world my home,
Oh heart would rend and fall with many an icy tear!


But am I not a fabled son of light?
Fear in me I often boldly best!

And If I do not try to win this Maid,
Death I know will take me off to places where grandsires rest.


 A dash through cold and mist, to grasp her silken hand
Upon one knee I fall, I dare not stand!


To trembling lips I brush those tender fingertips…


With quivering voice I lay my heart open
Not daring to look into those emerald eyes,

But when I feel her hand fade in my grasp,
This heart in flaming chest, breaks and dies!

Bewitched, Beloved, Bereft... Be Still...

Sometimes it’s hard to end a day, of heavy work, for little pay, then go to sleep, not much to say, and dream of nothing, as I lay, but work, work, work…

I look upon a hillside green, A cow takes water from a stream,
A fox in play handsome and lean, upon this hillside emerald green,

Though…

Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.


A breeze picks up to push the grass, in great long sweeps I see it pass,
The sun is high a molten mass, resembling gold or polished brass,

Yet…

Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.

And to the stream a shepherd lad, shoulders low and poorly clad,
Made his way, though face was sad, for three small sheep were all he had,

Alas…

Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.

And from the south a minstrel gay, dressed in scarlet white and grey,
Comes skipping toward the stream to stay, beneath a tree I see him lay,
A merry tune begins to play,

And still…

Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.

Then ore the hill comes charging quick, a band of goblins armor thick,
And in their hand an iron pick, the sons of light they mean to STICK!

But no…

Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.

The shepherd lad a warning cries, before the pick removes his eyes,
The minstrel flees, at least he tries, but goblin chief of massive size,
Outran the man who screaming dies!

Yet still…

Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.


The sheep are taken as a snack, the cow is butchered, carried back,
The fox has fled for all are dead, the stream once clear runs ruby red!

And yes…

Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.

Now as I gaze, all seams so still, nothing moves nor ever will,
For goblins bear the urge to ****, now crimson stains the emerald hill…

Away amongst the dappled sky
You see me racing swiftly by
And harken to my engines cry
The heavens ever speeding nigh
For ****** will push me swiftly high

Tis skyward that I fly!


The jet stream takes me rapidly
The form aerodynamically
To the place I mean to be
A bullet shot from barrel, me!

So fast a blur is all you see…


To lofty places I ascend
The constellations to befriend
And through the space which has no end
I strike the fabric, make it bend

Before spacetime itself I rend…


I land in distant years behind
My eldest kin I hope to find
For in their strength they’ve become blind
A warning have I in my mind

“Beware, the future is not kind…”


And when my purpose here is done
They hear my mighty engines run
I launch once more toward the sun
My sonic blast, all hearing, stun

Like bullet shot from smoking gun!


Then back through rift I must return
Slowing by my retro burn
But soon a dreadful thing I learn
A comet speeding struck my stern

Stranded now, defeat I spurn!


For though my state is more then grave
Tis home my soul dose wholly crave
And so a plan I start to pave
A burnished sail my life will save

For I can ride a solar wave.


Now close to earth I soon will be
Approaching far too rapidly
For burning is my craft, yes she
The one who swiftly carried me

Crash! I plunge into the sea.


My ship is recked but I survive
Drifting eastward half alive
When to an island I arrive


And on said place, for life I strive.


Then after months of living there
Illness I take through lack of care
But then a ship, tall sailed and fair
Picks me up, off island bare
And gives me drought of spirit ere

Death claim me or age **** my hair.


And when I am safe home at last
Infirmity from me I cast
Recalling engines mighty blast
My journey to the distant past

And galaxies rushing toward me fast!


I write it down, just how you read
And tell it true to all who heed
And now conclude, for I am freed
With brand new rocket, lightning speed

What a wondrous life I lead…

What you see is a machine, skin and bone and blood,
Made by the infinite being, constructed out of mud.

Limbs clothed in skin, Actuated from within.

Electrically controlled, Slowly getting old.

Healthy strong and tall, Broken by a fall.

Flesh together sown, Mended on its own.

Your eyes will only ever see, as far as light will let,
But soul resides in this machine, alive and free from debt!

So look ye now with spirit eyes upon this mortal man,
And see ye now the hidden truth, that flesh eyes never can.

So, on the morning of his sixteenth birthday, Doby Greenhorn prepared to leave. He packed some provisions; a compass, a large box of matches, some rope, a leather bottle full of water, a little money, a sturdy walking stick and some other odds and ends his mother threw at him. And, as the poem goes…


“As I set out, in early morn, the whole world for to see,
These are the things my blessed mother, came and said to me.”

“Beware the fettered Giant, In the valley down below! Restrained by iron ringlets, near the well where lovers go…

Beware the flaxen Ferry, if you see him down the lane, he’ll offer you the world and more, but only bring you pain…

Be not dismayed by goblins if they’re out during the day, just teach them a new riddle and they’ll let you on your way.

A blackened cat upon the road will bring bad luck it’s said, unless you chase it down at once, and beat it till it’s dead!

But most important, is that song, which lures all men near… The sound like golden honey being spooned into your ear! A song which sparks that deepest longing, a sense of warmth and cheer!

The song of evil Sirens is the thing which most I fear…

So put thy hand across thy breast and make a solemn pledge, to never follow lilting tunes up to the waters edge!

And if you do, and see a maiden bathing in the sun, more beautiful then any queen that ever had been won! With eyes as green as sun bleached moss and face pleasant and fun, Who’s magic makes it quite impossible for you to run!

Then draw thy dagger from thy waist and place it to thy beating heart, and plunge that steel with all thy strength, to lay thy noble breast apart!

Far better be, to take thy life and keep thy soul embowered, then ever kiss those bitter lips and have thy flesh devoured!

For Sirens never eat the dead, and though thy blood runs ruby red, thy honor rests upon thy head, and follows thee to life after…”

”I made the pledge, and kissed her face, and off I went my path to chase! With dagger hanging from my waist… That dagger dangling at my waist… “

Oh sweet nectar of the morn, in simmering ***, thy bitter savor born,
From depths of slumber I am drawn, to bold aromas, dark and rich.

Pulled up, outside of sleeps embrace, not quickly, at a gentle pace,
And brought along till fully woken, with that single word so sweetly spoken…

““Coffee…”

Awake, but in that pleasant daze, that warm, relaxing, dream like phase,
When bed is softer than a cloud, the house so quiet, it’s almost loud.

Pause for effect…

And then a knock on oaken door, a    gentle rap, moments before,
The **** is turned, and with a whine, the door glides open, just in time!
For she has brought me coffee…

A sip is like a gentle kiss, the warmest, realist, sweetest bliss,
Spread through my soul, and lifts me higher, pulled up by some cosmic wire,
Far above the highest spire, past our stars tormented fire,
Far beyond basic desire, serounded by angelic quire, Strumming harp and plucking lyre!

Little excessive…

Through death I drew breath, Through blood I have life,

When hope was an ember, burning through strife,

Joy was a gift, Which on his behalf,

Brightened my smile, and drew out my laugh!

Sin was the monster, Death was his game,

Fear was what kept me, bound with a chain,

But in him is mercy,  and he lives in me!

His blood gave me life,  His love set me free...

To all who have something to say…

Don’t talk to me! Don’t talk to me!
I’m busy, can’t you understand?
Just go away and let me be,
Some peace and quiet would be grand!

Leave me alone, I must have peace, you think this poem will write itself?
If that’s the case, then why is it not  printed, bound and on my shelf?

Leave me alone, for goodness sake! My genius is seldom enacted,
Though my mind is brilliant! It is easily distracted…

Stop that racket! With all that noise, it’s impossible to think!
For my mind is like a battleship, the slightest sound will sink!

I heard that! Do you think I’m dumb? I’m sitting just right over there!
I’m making some world changing art, doesn’t anybody care?!

Now all is still, at last there’s peace, so good of them to try it,
But I’m still stuck, I wonder why? It must be too **** Quiet‼

There isn’t much of golden rays, on cold and blustery winter days,

And one is never certain when, the sun will show his face again,

And when a blanket, soft and white, is laid across the ground at night,

Unbroken, save by little hints, of creatures leaving tiny prints,

It’s almost worth the bitter cold, and days that shorten by the hour, when you answer nature’s call to pour on her that *******,

And scribe upon the snowy sheet a warm and friendly “Hello”, that’s written in a single line of bright, unbroken yellow...